


gone but back again (returned a relic of a girl you knew)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:56:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: "Don't forget your promise," Felicity said, her voice quiet against his ear. "Don't forget me."Oliver closed his eyes. "Never."[au, role reversal, heiress!felicity gets on the yacht]
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 36
Kudos: 257





	gone but back again (returned a relic of a girl you knew)

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt** : hey! i left a donation for your medical stuff. i was hoping for just anything olicity! i like au's and role reversal but i'll take anything. thank youuu and feel better!
> 
> this is so, so sooo late. i have been struggling with a lot of exhaustion and not a little pain management over the last few months due to a mostly healed broken ankle. and writing has just been a nightmare for me. i actually wrote the following story aaages ago and, warning, it will remain unfinished. so consider it more of a peak at an au that's like 13,000 words. it sets up a universe i always wanted to explore but i doubt i'll ever get back to, though i do hope it slates your desire for a role reversal au at least a little. ;) again, thank you so much for your donation, it's really helped!

_**gone but back again (returned a relic of a girl you knew)**_  
1/1

It was well after midnight when Oliver cast a weary glance at the time on his computer screen. In front of him sat a stack of papers he wanted to have done before he headed home. He'd long sent his secretary off; she didn't need to stay behind because he couldn't keep up with his work load. Tired, he thrust a hand through his hair and leaned into his chair, letting it tilt as his body slumped against the cushy back. Abruptly, he felt every tense muscle loosen up and grimaced at the reminder that he'd been sitting in the same position for far too long. Needing a break, he grabbed up the remote from the corner of his desk and turned it toward the television, in need of a little background noise. He stood then and made his way over to a cart in the corner, dressed with a few crystal glasses and a decanter of bourbon. After pouring himself one, he pulled his tie loose and stood at the window, staring out over the still bright city below.

The shine of such a view had long since lost its luster. As a boy, Oliver had frequented his father's office enough to be familiar with what money and privilege could afford a person. Growing up, he'd taken advantage of just that and had gotten away with his fair share of troublemaking. Five years ago, the last place he saw himself was in this exact office. Going into the family business had never been in the cards for him. Hellbent on avoiding any whisper of responsibility, he'd dropped out of a handful of acclaimed universities and had little interest in trying for a sixth. But things had changed. Life had changed. Five years in, he wasn't sure if it was really for the better. There was no going back now.

Knocking back his bourbon, he dropped the glass down on the table a little too hard and dragged a hand down his chin, taking in a deep breath, holding it to the count of five, and then letting it out slowly. Sometimes, on nights like these, the panic would creep back in and swamp him. There was a bottle of Ativan in his desk drawer, but he never touched it. His therapist said sometimes just having it in reach was a comfort. He didn't have to take it unless he wanted to. Thinking about it always reminded him of how absurd it was that, once upon a time, he'd lived in a spotlight of debauchery. He was untouchable then, or so he felt.

Closing his eyes, Oliver leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool glass window. When he opened them, all he could see was the breath-stealing drop ahead. Instead of being filled with the ice cold feeling of fear, he felt nothing. A curious absence that had grown steadily over the years. He tried to cram it full with work, but there must've been a leak, because the aching emptiness still found a way to swarm him. Some days more than others.

"… _you're just tuning in, then you'll be surprised to hear that heiress Felicity Smoak is_ alive!"

Oliver stood upright abruptly, whirling around to face the television, his brows hiked in shock.

Seasoned reporter for the Starling City News, Colleen Huang, was on screen, sharing a stoic smile.

" _The Starling City resident was found by fishermen in the North China Sea three days ago. We're received word that she has been taken to an unnamed hospital to receive care. It's been five years since Smoak went missing and was presumed dead following an accident at sea._

_"Felicity Smoak is the sole daughter of Donna Smoak, CEO to Smoak Technologies. The heiress was acting as an ambassador to Smoak Tech when she boarded The Queen's Gambit with former CEO of Queen Consolidated, Robert Queen, en route to China for business purposes. Queen Consolidated and Smoak Tech were once close business partners; however, since The Queen's Gambit was struck down by a terrible storm, the companies have since been noticeably separate._

_Since the unexpected tragedy, former tabloid-favorite Oliver Queen has given up his partying ways and taken over as CEO of Queen Consolidated under the guidance of step-father and CFO to the company, Walter Steele._

_"According to reliable sources, Felicity Smoak is the sole survivor. It is now confirmed that Robert Queen and all those who were aboard The Queen's Gambit are_ deceased…"

Oliver stared at the screen ahead of him, a picture of Felicity there in the corner. Her head was tipped to one side, long blonde hair falling in a wave over her shoulder; rectangular glasses perched on her scrunched nose; pink fuchsia lips spread wide in a smile. If the focus were to zoom out, it'd show Oliver next to her, both of them dressed up for a banquet, his tux jacket open, collar unbuttoned, and tie hanging loose. She was holding the straps of her heels by two fingers in her free hand, her red dress pooling around her bare feet on the marble floor. That was a few months before she went missing; he couldn't remember what the banquet was for, but he remembered going to Big Belly Burger with her and Tommy afterwards. He remembered her putting her feet in his lap while she ate, wiggling her green-tipped toes at him when he complained. And after, when she'd hopped on Tommy's back so he could carry her down the block to her apartment building, a familiar sight to Jeffrey, her doorman.

Abruptly, his cell phone started buzzing atop his desk. Oliver moved toward it, grabbing it up and turning it over to see Tommy's familiar face grinning back at him. Thumbing it open, he raised it to his ear and took a seat behind his desk. "Tommy, hey…"

"Good, you're up. Any chance you've seen the news?"

"Yeah." Oliver cleared his throat and shifted his feet. "When did you hear?"

"That would be right _now_." Tommy let out a choked laugh. "So, what's the protocol on seeing your ex-girlfriend after she comes back from the dead?"

Grimacing, Oliver muted the TV and then took a seat behind his desk. "Not sure there's a how-to on that one."

" _Is_ she my ex…?" Tommy wondered thoughtfully. "We never _technically_ broke up. We were still very much together when she left. If I remember correctly, there was a countdown on TMZ to when she'd be spotted wearing an over-sized engagement ring."

"I remember." Oliver leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "How drunk are you right now?"

"On a scale of tipsy to 'I won't remember this tomorrow,' I'm somewhere in the middle. But the night is young, my friend…"

Oliver hummed. "Not _that_ young."

"Hey, do you remember when you used to be fun? What happened to _that_ Oliver?" Tommy joked half-heartedly.

Tipping forward in his seat, he set his gaze on the TV once more, where pictures of Felicity continued to flash across the screen. "I'll ask my secretary to schedule more fun into my days."

Truthfully, he and Tommy had dealt with Felicity's 'death' differently. For Oliver, he'd lost his best friend and his father at the same time. For Tommy, it was his best friend/girlfriend. The first few weeks or months (it was a blur sometimes) involved a lot of black out drinking, and not a few party drugs to take the edge off. After one very bad night ended in the hospital, Oliver's direction forked away from Tommy's. His mother had forced him into therapy which, despite how much he fought it, ended up helping. Eventually, he'd decided he needed to _do_ something, so he went back to school. He finished his business degree, and then he shadowed Walter around the company, and now he was CEO.

His mother was happy, at least. Remarried to Walter and proud of her son for taking on a responsibility he'd always shrugged off in the past. Tommy had continued to avoid work; living off his trust fund and avoiding any and all pointed remarks his father threw his way. Oliver couldn't blame him. For Tommy, it was easier to pretend it didn't hurt. To be the life of the party that never ended. For Oliver, something broke inside. He hadn't had to deal with grief before. Tommy had just scraped by after his mom's death and his father's abandonment when he was a little boy. Oliver, seemingly a grown man, had no idea what to do with his newfound emptiness. So, he channelled it into something both Felicity and his father could be proud of; an education and a career. He wasn't happy about it. Most days, he wondered at what life might've been like if certain things had been different…

* * *

**2006**

* * *

"Oliver?"

Oliver blinked out of his memory and focused in on the man across from him.

Doctor Castillo was an older man with more salt than pepper hair. He was sitting in an over-sized winged-back armchair, narrow glasses perched on a round nose, an open book in his lap, where he tapped a blue pen absently. "Can you tell me where you were just then?"

Oliver shrugged and gripped his hands a little tighter in his lap, fingers overlapping. "You asked me a question…"

"About the last day you saw your father, yes."

"I was thinking about that, I guess."

Castillo's brows hiked; high arches in the center like arrows pointing toward his receding hairline. "You guess?" Castillo hated when Oliver used qualifiers instead of just saying what he meant.

An annoyed burst of air left Oliver's nose. "I was thinking about that day."

"What about it?"

"About… what I said, I gu—" He paused, clenched his teeth, and then sat up a little straighter in his seat. "I barely talked to him. I was focused on something else."

Castillo stared at him, waiting.

Oliver knew this game. This was where he would wait and wait until Oliver said more. Until the discomfort finally pushed him into sharing. Rather than draw it out, he said, "Felicity. I was focused on Felicity."

Glancing at his notes briefly, he nodded. "Felicity was your friend, wasn't she?"

"One of my best friends." He tapped his thumb against the back of his opposite hand, his heels dug into the rug. Castillo's office reminded him of his father's. Plush, expensive rugs on the floor; antique art on the walls; old wood bookshelves and cabinets. But where his father's office now held that dull, dusty smell of being untouched and unused in months, Castillo's smelled freshly cleaned. There was no dust layering the shelves and crevices; just clean, smooth surfaces.

"Oliver?"

"Hm?" He startled back into the moment once more.

Castillo scribbled something down in his book. "You seem distant today."

Sometimes Oliver wanted to set that thing on fire. He could only imagine what it said. He wondered too if his mother had read it. Castillo had assured Oliver that anything he said was private and wouldn't be shared unless he was deemed a threat to himself or others. But Oliver knew just what kind of influence his mother had and wouldn't be surprised if she had a way of monitoring even this. After all, it was her insistence that he attend therapy after the last _incident_. She'd been the one to bring him to his first appointment, setting it all up for him. Castillo wouldn't be the first, or last, person in his mother's pocket.

"Do I?" He forced a smile. "Didn't get a great sleep. Must be tired."

Castillo hummed and tapped a finger against his whiskered chin, the glint of his wedding band catching in a shaft of light coming through the window.

"You're married?" Oliver asked.

Castillo glanced at his finger. "I am."

"How long?"

Castillo didn't answer right away, so Oliver followed it with, "My parents were married 23 years. Barely a year before my mom had me. She was only twenty… I always wondered if they regretted that. Getting married so young." He shook his head, his brows arched. "I couldn't imagine it. Getting married at my age?" He snorted. "No way."

"What do you imagine?"

Oliver stared out the window. "Before all this?"

"Has it changed since this happened?"

Frowning, he tilted back in his chair. "Maybe. A little."

"How?"

"I didn't think my dad would be dead… He was only 49." Unclasping his hands, he reached up and scrubbed a hand over one cheek. "And Felicity's my age. Her birthday is a couple weeks after mine. When we were kids, we'd have joint-birthdays on both days. Tommy said it would get us more presents..."

"It sounds like you were very close."

Oliver's brow knit. "We were. All three of us. We were… inseparable."

A beat passed, and then another, before Castillo prodded some more. "The day The Queen's Gambit set sail, you said you were distracted by Felicity. Can you elaborate on that?"

Oliver took a deep breath and swallowed tightly. "We had a going away party the night before… Caprice nightclub. We, uh, we rented it for the night and we… packed it. Pretty sure we were breaking a few dozen fire codes." His mouth hitched up on one side in a grin. "But it was worth it."

**...**

_Damp with sweat, his shirt plastered to his back, Oliver left the dance floor to maneuver his way over to the bar, where a familiar face stood. Ducking his head down, his mouth brushed Felicity's ear. "You kind of make the rest of us look bad, you know that?"_

_Felicity grinned up at him; her smile so wide that her raised cheeks made her glasses lift. She'd traded her contacts in an hour ago; apparently, they were getting itchy. "You could always come with." She patted her hand against his chest. "Plenty of room on the over-sized yacht."_

_"Right." He snorted. "I'll just stowaway in your luggage."_

_"You wish! You'll stretch my Gucci bags out with all your…" She waved her hand around and pursed her lips_. "That."

_"That?" His chest rumbled with a laugh. "Are you complaining about how much time I spend in the gym? Seriously?"_

_"No._ Never _." She closed her eyes as she shook her head faux-solemnly. "I_ am _saying that as much as my_ eyes _appreciate your effort, my very expensive bags would not. Besides, I'm pretty sure the staff would let you on without any hassle. You_ are _a Queen."_

_He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Not sure dad wants me anywhere near the business. He's made it pretty clear that I don't have what it takes."_

_Felicity's head tipped; her long hair, pulled up into a ponytail, swung behind her. "I'm guessing he saw the whole 'peeing on a cop car' thing...?"_

_He grinned. "Who hasn't?_ _It was on TMZ."_

_Reaching up, she pressed her thumb against his chin and gave it a shake. "Not an accomplishment; try not to sound proud."_

_Oliver rolled his eyes. "You won't say that when me and Tommy break some kind of record for being their top news story."_

_"I hesitate to use the word_ 'news' _in relation to TMZ." Her eyes narrowed in a squint before eventually she sighed. "Anyway, this is a no moping zone and_ you _, sir, are definitely moping."_

_His mouth hitched up on one side. "Haven't you heard? My better half is leaving for China in the morning…"_

_"I'm_ wounded. _" Tommy suddenly appeared at their sides and threw his arms around them both. "I like to think of it more like a triangle." His voice was pitched loud to be heard over the bass-heavy music. "Our better_ third _is leaving in the morning." He winked down at Felicity and then turned his good-natured grin back up to Oliver. "You've been hogging my girlfriend from her going-away party, Queen. Weren't you getting shots?"_

 _"Ohhh, no. No, no, no." Felicity waved her hands. "No way am I getting any tipsier than I am_ _right now_. _I have to be up early tomorrow. And when I say early, I mean before the_ birds _early. Mom wants to go over the itinerary and check-in dates and times; it's a whole thing. She's kind of freaking out about it."_

_"Her baby is leaving the nest. She's allowed to worry." Tommy hooked his arm around her waist and drew her against his side, tipping his head down toward her, their foreheads meeting in the middle. "Any chance I'm on that check-in list?"_

_Felicity smiled at him gently. "I think I can squeeze you in."_

_Oliver turned his gaze back to the bartender, forcing a smile as he asked for a few shots. He quickly downed one and then another before returning his attention to the couple in front of him. He should be used to it by now. Felicity and Tommy had been an 'item' for a little over a year. Felicity was the black sheep of their trio, having graduated from high school at 16 and getting early admission to MIT. By the time she graduated, Oliver and Tommy had already been kicked out of a handful of universities between them. Oliver was firmly on the train of 'never doing that again,' no matter how many times Felicity told them they could do it if they really tried. The motivation just wasn't there. He was perfectly happy living off his trust-fund. Especially since he'd just recently bought his own penthouse._

_While it wasn't exactly Felicity's influence that made him do it, seeing her move into her own apartment after MIT had been part of the reason behind why he'd done the same. There was something liberating about not living at home, and it wasn't solely because he didn't have to see his parents' constant disappointment, front and center. But getting his own place and getting a job might as well have been on different ends of the scale as far as he was concerned. Work just wasn't up his alley. He wasn't even sure what he'd_ do. _Felicity was lucky; she was a tech genius. Set a computer in front of her and she could easily take over the world. He'd even cheer her on. But Oliver wasn't so lucky when it came to knowing where his interests lay. Tommy had mulled the idea of opening a nightclub together and Oliver had considered it, but he still wasn't sold on the idea._

_When Oliver looked up, there were three fresh shots in front of him and a smiling Tommy and Felicity waiting. He handed them theirs and then plucked his own up from the bar, raising it as he said, "To Felicity. Here's hoping her trip to China is cut short so we can have a welcome back party twice this size!"_

_"Hear, hear!" Tommy cheered._

_Felicity laughed before throwing her shot back and then banging the glass down on the bar. Pressing her fingers to her pink stained lips, she stared up at Oliver, lit by the neon lights flashing all around, her eyes seemed impossibly blue in that moment. Absently, he decided this would be how he remembered her in the weeks to follow. While she was away on a yacht, refusing to admit she sometimes got seasick, wearing an over-sized lifejacket everywhere she went, setting sail to do responsible adult things, he and Tommy would stay behind to party and remember her fondly._

_The song changed then, and Tommy threw his arms up. "That's my song!" He pointed at Oliver before grabbing his shoulder and giving it a shake. And then Tommy was turning on his heel and throwing himself back into the too-packed party to jump and dance with the other guests._

_Felicity laughed, watching after him for a moment before she returned her attention to Oliver. "I'm gonna miss this." She stepped closer to him when the music seemed to drown her out._

_Oliver reached for her, his hand finding her hip and flexing there when he realized it might be too obvious. It was something he'd become more aware of in the last two years. The way he was always reaching out to her. A hand on her hip or the small of her back or even just a tap of his finger to her shoulder. There was something about being around Felicity that made him feel like he was orbiting her, constantly drawing her closer. Like she was magnetized, and he was helpless to it. But then, it'd always felt like that. He'd met Felicity when he was eight years old. She was the new girl, which his teacher made a point of saying, just as she added that "her mother made a generous donation, which is why we have our wonderful new computer room." Being a Queen, Oliver was used to the influence his parents threw around with their money. Later in life, he would take full advantage of just that. But in that moment, all he really knew was that Felicity Smoak was just like him. Most of the students at the exclusive elementary school they attended came from wealth, but few had whole wings or sections of the school named after them, making it a rather exclusive club._

_Felicity was placed in the seat next to his in_ said _computer room. At eight, his ability to charm people was still in its infancy, but when he had trouble getting his computer going, she stepped in to help, and from there it was history. He invited her to sit with him and Tommy at lunch and they'd been friends ever since. Most would expect Felicity to be a good influence on her two much more troublesome counterparts. And, for the most part, they'd be right. She wasn't the type to pee on cop cars or attack paparazzi, at least not in camera's view. Felicity was the kind of troublemaker that knew how to get her revenge in ways that could never be traced back to her. A tech guru, she took pride in decimating her enemies with a few calculated taps of her keyboard. He admired her for that. Oliver had never had that kind of restraint. Most would say he didn't know what 'restraint' even was. Privilege had afforded him a lot, maybe too much. And boundaries were basically non-existent. But then, even the easiest of lives could hit road bumps._

 _"Is it weird to say I'm going to miss you?" Felicity stared up at him, her brow furrowed. "I mean, it's only a few weeks, right? Six, tops. And then I'll be right back here to remind you that sleeping in until noon does_ not _a productive day make."_

_Oliver nodded down at her. "I'll miss you, too."_

_She bit her lip to hide a smile. "Yeah? You're not gonna forget me?" She tapped a finger against his chest. "You'll answer all my texts and emails and even my late-night phone calls?"_

_He wrapped his hand around her wrist and squeezed gently. "I can't guarantee emails." No matter her influence, he was always a keyboard 'pecker,' using only two fingers to type out any and all emails he had to send. It drove her nuts. "Texts, though?_ Probably. _"_

_"I guess I can live with that."_

_He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. "And I won't forget you."_

_"You better not." She stared up at him a long beat and then turned her gaze out toward the dance floor, where Tommy was dancing in the middle of a mosh pit of a people. "Keep an eye on him?"_

_"I'll do you one better and video tape the whole thing."_

_With a roll of her eyes, she snorted. "What have I told you?"_

_"Never leave evidence where anyone can find it." He shook his head. "I didn't say I'd upload it."_

_"Doesn't matter. Everything's hackable._ Seriously _. Your phone is_ not _Fort Knox. It's more like one of those flimsy little journals with the locks you can pick with like a hair pin or a paper clip."_

 _"Have you_ tried?"

_"Of course! I always lost the key."_

_He grinned slowly. "I'll keep that in mind."_

_"Good." She nodded. "Now, I think you promised me a dance…" She backed up, her hands extended. "You can't say no! It's my party, I can do what I want!"_

_Laughing under his breath, he took her hands and let her tow him out onto the floor. He twirled her hand above her head and caught her as she spun and fell against his chest. For a brief moment, a little drunk and a lot happy, he could ignore the fact that he was playing with fire and just enjoy the heat._

**...**

"Oliver?"

He took a deep breath and shrugged. "It was fun. We all had fun. Felicity left around one, but we kept the party going until three, maybe four."

"When you said you were distracted by her…?"

"I went down to the docks that morning, to see them off…" He shook his head. "I don't know why."

Castillo stared at him a long moment and then laid his pen down. "Do you remember what I told you about statements like that?"

Oliver ground his teeth. "That I do know, I just don't want to say what I'm thinking."

"Right. And what's my rule about that?"

"That I don't have to say it as long as I acknowledge it to myself. And when I'm ready, I can share it."

Castillo readjusted his glasses and nodded. "And?"

"I acknowledge it," he said in a droll tone.

Castillo's mouth kicked up faintly. "That morning, you talked to them before they left?"

He nodded and shifted in his seat, drawing his arms up and crossing them over his chest. "Yeah. A little."

**...**

_"Oliver!" Moira stared up at him, her brows hiked. "I had no idea you'd be here. Don't tell me you're joining your father, too?"_

_Oliver grimaced. "No. Not exactly."_

_"Hey!" Felicity hurried down the ramp to the dock, her white tennis shoes slapping against the damp wood. She came to a stop just short of the two of them, a little breathless, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I didn't even know you woke up this early."_

_He rolled his eyes. "I prefer not to."_

_"I already put my luggage in my room, so you might have to find a different way to sneak on board."_

_Snorting, he shook his head. "Much as holding your hair back while you puke over the edge for the next six weeks would be… fun, I think I'll pass."_

_"Joke's on you." She pulled a thin, rectangular box out of her jeans pocket and waved it at him. "Anti-nausea medicine. I'll be seasick free… Seasick-less? Whatever. No puking for Felicity."_

_"Charming," Moira said, her voice an amused drawl. She looked between the two of them. "Felicity, dear, is your mother here? I know she was worried about the trip."_

_"I just sent her home." She waved a thumb over her shoulder. "There was a lot of crying and hugging, so we got here early to kind of head it off. That way, when we pull anchor, mom's not physically restraining the boat from leaving."_

_"Yes, well, I understand the worry." Moira looked up at Oliver. "Have you spoken to your father? It'll be the last time you see him for… some time."_

_"It's only six weeks, mom. He's been gone longer."_

_Moira merely stared at him._

_With a long-suffering sigh, he nodded. "I'll go see him now. Okay?"_

_She smiled, her gaze glinting with triumph. "Good."_

_To Felicity, Oliver said, "Are you coming?"_

_"Can't. Since you and Tommy decided not to come, I asked someone else to be my plus-one."_

_Oliver's brow furrowed. "Really? Who?"_

_A long whistle could be heard then and everyone present turned their heads in its direction._

_There, at the top of the ramp, stood an excited Sara Lance, one hand gripping the handle of her luggage. Beside her was a less-than-enthused Officer Lance, his arms crossed and his mouth set in a disapproving frown._

_Felicity grinned._

_"Traded in for a bubbly blonde." Oliver tisked. "I think I'm offended."_

_"You'll survive." Felicity reached out and patted his chest before she turned on her heel to hurry back up the ramp._

_Oliver watched her go, unaware that he was grinning after her. Despite the distance, he swore he could hear Felicity and Sara's excited shrieks as they met for a hug._

_"Isn't Felicity still dating Tommy?" Moira asked, her voice knowing._

_Oliver stiffened and glanced at her. "Yeah. Why?"_

_She stared up at him, her lips pinched. "Do you remember when you were sixteen and Felicity finished school early? She told you she was moving to Massachusetts for MIT…"_

_He nodded slowly._

_"Do you remember how heartbroken you were? You researched high schools in Cambridge and tried to convince your father and I that it would be a good fit. You even found a private school there where you could board."_

_Tucking his hands in the pockets of his shorts, he rocked back on his heels. "So? It was a good school…"_

_"Oliver." She shook her head. "Denial isn't a good look on anyone, dear."_

_His brow furrowed. "What does that even mean?"_

_Before she could answer, a gruff and familiar "Oliver!" was called from behind him._

_He turned to see his father walking toward him, a warm but curious smile on his face. "Dad," he greeted._

_"How many alarms did you have to set to get up this early?" Robert teased, clapping him on the back._

_Oliver groaned before admitting, "A few."_

_"Come to see me off then?"_

_"You and a certain protégé," Moira said, casting a look in Felicity's direction._

_Felicity was coming down the dock now, arm in arm with Sara as they chatted, overlapping each other cheerfully._

_"Ah," Robert said knowingly. "That's been a long time coming, hm?"_

_Oliver pursed his lips and hunched his shoulders. "Felicity and I are friends."_

_Moira and Robert exchanged a look before returning their attention to their son._

_"Of course you are." Moira reached out to squeeze Oliver's forearm. "But you know what they say… The best relationships are built on friendship."_

_Oliver hummed and kept his gaze on Felicity. "She's with Tommy. They're happy. And I couldn't…"_

_"Things can change, son. Time, circumstances…" Robert shrugged. "Maybe it's not right now, but there's always someday."_

_"Maybe."_

_If Oliver was honest, though, as much as he liked Felicity, and he did, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for her. In a way, she reminded him of Laurel. He loved Laurel. She was smart and ambitious and she would make an amazing lawyer one day. She had a good head on her shoulders, knew exactly what she wanted out of life, and never let anything get in her way. It was for all those reasons that he always wound up back with her, even if it always ended the same way. Currently, they were on a break. He wasn't sure how long it would last, but that was a strange comfort, too. It would end. They would always get back together. Until the next time he disappointed her somehow and they took some time apart. A part of him was aware enough to wonder if he would only end up doing the same with Felicity. First and foremost, she was his friend. His best friend. Which meant that he couldn't afford to ruin it. Having her in his life was too important to him. Besides, she was with Tommy. She loved Tommy. Oliver respected that. Even if he sometimes found himself wondering over the 'what ifs.' The reality was that he needed them, both of them, and he wasn't going to screw that up for anything._

_"Ready?" Robert asked as Felicity and Sara came to a stop in front of them._

_"Ready!" the girls said cheerfully._

_A crewman came out then, gathering Sara's luggage to bring onto the ship. A horn honked, letting them know it was time to board and get a move on._

_While Robert and Moira said their goodbyes, Oliver turned to Felicity and Sara._

_"I'm gonna go check out that breakfast buffet you mentioned." Sara nudged Felicity before she winked at Oliver and took off across the deck to board the yacht._

_Felicity smiled up at Oliver. "I guess this is goodbye."_

_He nodded. "Temporarily."_

_Stepping forward, she held her arms out._

_Oliver met her in the middle and wrapped her in a hug, his chin resting on her shoulder._

_Felicity's hands wrapped around the back of his shoulders. "Don't forget your promise," she said, her voice quiet against his ear. "Don't forget me."_

_Oliver closed his eyes. "Never."_

_Another deep bellow of the yacht's horn called after them. Slowly, Felicity let go and stepped back. She smiled up at him. "Tommy's probably still passed out in my apartment with the mother of all hangovers. Feel free to drop by and kick him out." She tucked her hands in her windbreaker and walked backwards toward the yacht then. "Six weeks!" she called back to him._

_He nodded. "Six weeks."_

_Robert stepped up then. "Oliver…" He reached out, pulling Oliver into a tight hug, and gave him a rough pat on the back. "I want to talk to you when I get back. There are some things I think we need to discuss." When he pulled away, he was staring at Oliver seriously. "I don't want you to worry about it now, we'll get it all out on the table when I get home. Just… take care of your mother and sister for me, all right?"_

_Brow furrowed, Oliver nodded. "Yeah, sure."_

_With an affectionate grin, Robert cupped his hand behind Oliver's head, gave it one last pat, and then made his way onto the waiting yacht._

_Left behind with a lot of questions, Oliver stood with his mother, watching as the boat began to pull away._

_There, at the back, stood a waving Felicity._

_Helpless to it, Oliver waved in return._

_Moira patted his forearm gently. "It'll pass by in a blink, just you wait."_

_Oliver half-smiled down at her. "I hope so."_

**...**

"Before he left, my dad wanted to tell me something. He was vague. I don't know what it was about." He shook his head. "I wanted to ask my mom, but she was… She wasn't in the best place for a long time."

"And now? Do you think she'd be able to give you the answers you need?"

Oliver frowned. "She doesn't like to talk about him."

"Grief affects people in different ways." Castillo stared at him searchingly. "Do you remember how you dealt with things when you realized what had happened?"

"I avoided it."

"Were you avoiding it or were you trying to drown it out?"

Raising an eyebrow, Oliver wondered, "Is there a difference?"

Castillo took a deep breath. "People avoid things in different ways. Some busy themselves with other things; work, school, social gatherings. You started drinking more, is that right?"

It was a blur, those first few months. A strobe-lit blur of alcohol infused depression. If he was awake, he was drunk. He had to be dragged out of clubs, poured into the nearest taxi, and brought back to his apartment to sleep it off. And then he'd wake up the next morning and raid his alcohol supply there. Drinking away his days until that was all they were. And on the nights when that wasn't enough, he'd take whatever pills were offered to him, snort whatever powder was available, and let himself spin away from it all. Which was only part of how he ended up wrapped around that tree, his car nothing but scrap metal.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he said, a defense for a question that wasn't asked. "My mom thinks I was."

Castillo was blank-faced, neither positive nor negative. "What were you trying to do?"

Oliver's knee started jumping, his stomach twisted up in knots. "Forget."

"About?"

He stared down, unseeing. "She asked us to go with her. Me and Tommy. We turned her down. She'd be busy with work and I didn't feel like listening to my dad lecture me on how I needed to get serious about life and school." He shook his head. "At her going-away party, we joked about sneaking me on the boat, and she brought it up again the morning she left. Sometimes I wonder… If I'd gone…"

"You couldn't stop the storm from happening."

"No." His brow furrowed. "Of course not."

"You feel guilty."

"Sara Lance went instead of us. She died on that boat, too. I was dating her sister at the time; I know what her family went through after."

"Do you wish you could've taken Sara's place?"

Oliver looked up and stared at Castillo. "Sometimes."

"What do you think that would've changed?"

He ground his teeth together, his lips pressed flat.

"Remember the rule, Oliver. If you don't want to tell me, at least acknowledge it to yourself."

His gaze fell to the floor between them, a dull flower pattern. "I'm _relieved_ … that I didn't go. That I didn't die. And I feel… _guilty_ because of it. At the same time… If I had gone, I would've been there…"

"To do what?"

He shook his head. "I'd just be there."

"And then your mother would bury both a husband and a son. Your sister would miss her father and her brother…"

"I know it's selfish."

"Not selfish, no. I just want you to see the bigger picture." Castillo crossed his legs, his pants drawn up to show a sliver of his gray socks. "We can't change what's already happened. Sometimes, when we don't have control over a situation, we start to wonder about what could be different. But that won't help you. Because no matter what conclusion you come to, it won't change anything. You didn't get on the boat, Oliver. You never will. The boat has sailed. The only thing you can do now is deal with the aftermath."

Oliver slumped back in his chair and frowned. "What if I can't?"

"There are only so many options. Either you work through it and find a way to move forward, or you don't, and you remain stuck." Castillo put his notebook aside for a moment and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What about moving forward scares you?"

"It doesn't _scare_ me."

Castillo simply waited for him to elaborate.

With a sigh, Oliver turned his gaze away, to the window at Castillo's back. Across the way was another skyscraper, too far for him to make out any details of the people inside. "I don't know what I do now. I don't… I don't know who I am. Before, I was just… _me_. I did what I wanted, and I put up with the lectures and the disappointment and the 'you're better than this.' And now, I'm sitting in a shrink's office, talking about my _feelings_ , and trying to convince you and my mother than I'm not suicidal."

"Do you want my opinion about the night you crashed your car, Oliver?"

He glanced back at Castillo briefly and then shrugged.

"I don't think you were trying to kill yourself."

Oliver turned his full attention on him then. "You don't?"

"No." Castillo clasped his hands over his stomach, his blue button up wrinkling under his palms. "I think you were running away from the hurt you were feeling, and you ran too far. You lost control. You were drunk and high and you didn't know which way was up. I think you're in pain, Oliver. Your father died. A man you love and admire but feel like you failed somehow. Like you never had a chance to prove you were not a disappointment. And your best friend also died. Another person that you respected and cared about. I think you have questions you might never get answers for and that can leave anyone feeling frustrated and angry."

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes burned. "So, what do I do then?"

"I have something for you…" Reaching to the side, he plucked up a slim brown book. "It's a journal. Some of my patients use it for their dreams or their day-to-day lives. I have one who only ever writes grocery lists." He held it aloft to Oliver. "Whatever you decide to use yours for, I want you to write in it every day."

Taking the book, Oliver turned it over in his hand. "What's that supposed to do?"

"Do you know what an inner-dialogue is, Oliver?"

"Whatever I'm thinking. How I talk to myself."

"Right. And do you know what yours is?"

He shrugged.

"Things get lost in translation sometimes. We don't always recognize the positive or negative ways we interact with ourselves. You said before that you don't know who you are… My hope is that this might help you find 'you.' Whoever that may be or whoever you might become."

Humming, Oliver stared down at the leather front. "Every day?"

"Some days will be more prolific than others. You might only write a paragraph or a sentence. Other days, you might fill _pages_. It all depends on how you're feeling, what you're remembering, and how it affects you. When people we care about die, we get hung up on what we've lost. What we'll never get to say to them. What opportunities will never come. There will be days that you wish your father could be there. Graduations, birthdays, weddings. On those days, you might take a moment to write down what you want to say to him, and what you think or hope he might say to you. I think you'll find it very cleansing."

Oliver nodded.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?"

He shook his head slowly, then paused. "I've been having dreams… Nightmares."

"What about?"

"The accident. About the ship capsizing. About… _them_. Dying." He shifted in his seat, glanced at Castillo before quickly looking away. "When I wake up, I'm not sure where I am. It's like I'm in the water with them. I can't catch my breath."

"How long does that last?"

"A few minutes. But I can't sleep after that. I try to, but I startle back awake." The water was so cold; an icy sting that burned his skin and filled his lungs. "I drink sometimes, just to drown it out."

Humming, Castillo reached for his book, noting something down before he offered, "I can prescribe something to help you sleep. The panic, however, is something we'll have to work on with time."

"You can't prescribe me something for that, too?"

"I'd like to limit your medication use due to your history. The sleeping medication is non-addictive, but it's also a band-aid for something bigger. You've had no problems with your sleeping patterns before this, is that right?" At Oliver's nod, he continued, "Then my hope is that this will be a temporary situation we can manage with time. If it continues, we'll look into other remedies. Exercise is always a good one. How does that sound?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Okay. Well, that's it for today then. I know Rosie has you on the books for another meeting in a few weeks, but if you feel like you need to see me before then, be sure to call. All right?"

Oliver nodded as he stood. "Thanks, Doc."

Castillo moved toward his desk, digging out his prescription pad. "You've come a long way since you first met with me, Oliver. You reminded me of a surly teenager with a chip on his shoulder then."

It was an apt enough description. When Oliver had started seeing Castillo, he'd been reluctant, whining that he didn't need or want therapy. But his mother had insisted. After Oliver's accident, there wasn't much he could say to change her mind. He could admit now that might've been a good thing. Much as he'd thought therapy would be a waste of his time, it had helped get him back on track. He wasn't completely healed, but at least he no longer felt like he'd been swallowed up in a black hole with no relief in sight.

Handing him a prescription, Castillo took a seat on the corner of his desk and looked up at him with a half-smile. "Keep up on that journal, all right? You'll be surprised by how much it helps."

"All right." He gave the book a little wave and took the prescription, tucking it away in his pocket. "See you in a few weeks, Doc."

As he walked out, he paused by Rosie's desk to double check with her that he was on the books and then made his way out. His driver was waiting downstairs, parked across the street. Oliver made his way over after a break in traffic and climbed into the back of the car. He let Larry know they needed to stop at the pharmacy before he went home.

Left to his thoughts, Oliver opened his journal, thumbing through the empty pages absently. He had no idea what he was going to write. In that moment, he couldn't think of one thing he'd want immortalized in ink. Later, however, sleeping medication picked up and liquor cabinet firmly locked, he took a seat at the kitchen island, opened the book, marked the date and wrote just three things.

_Robert Queen._

_Felicity Smoak._

_Sara Lance_.

For now, that was all he wanted to say. All he wanted to remember.

* * *

**Present - 2012**

* * *

"You still there?"

"Hm?" Oliver tuned back into the present, where Tommy was trying to get his attention. "Sorry. I was distracted."

"You and me both. Listen, I know your big boy job doesn't leave much time for hanging out, but I've got a stocked mini fridge and I could use a drinking partner."

Oliver stared at the stack of papers in front of him and then nodded. "Yeah. Sure. I can be there in fifteen." Standing from his chair once more, he shuffled the papers off to the side, turned off his computer, and then grabbed up his jacket from the back of his chair.

"You, uh… You got any idea what hospital she might be in?"

Oliver frowned as he smoothed a hand down his jacket and walked to his office door. "I know as much as you do. I'd try calling Donna, but it's pretty late."

"Yeah, sure, of course. It was a dumb idea. I just thought…"

"I know." Oliver made his way to the elevator. "Me, too."

"Five years…" Tommy whistled. "How do you think she did it?"

Oliver smiled faintly. "It's Felicity. What _can't_ she do?"

Tommy laughed lightly. "Fair point."

As the elevator doors opened, he stepped inside and turned on his heel, pressing the button for the garage. "I'm sure she'll tell us all about it."

"Right. Who doesn't want to share a harrowing tale of how you survived five years on an isolated island with no friends or family or Big Belly to tide you over? Maybe she'll sell the rights to her own Castaway type Blockbuster. Who do you think will play me, her dashing and rugged sort-of-ex?"

Oliver sighed quietly and lifted a hand to rub over his forehead, a headache already forming. "Paul Rudd is a thing, right?"

"A) Barely. And b) that guy's got at _least_ a decade on me."

"I guess that's why I'm in business and not casting."

"Hey, you know who should play you? That guy I showed you! You know, the one on Private Practice. He looked _just_ like you."

"I'll take your word for it." The elevator doors opened then, admitting him into the parking garage. Aside from a few sporadic vehicles from cleaning staff spread far and wide, his car was surrounded by empty space. "Private Practice is the one with the doctors, right?"

"Right. It's a spin off of Grey's Anatomy. Laurel's big on both."

"I remember. She used to make me watch the Grey one."

"Lot of sex for a hospital," Tommy mused.

"Most of the appeal, I'd guess." Crossing the parking lot, Oliver's footsteps echoed. He used his key fob to unlock the car. "Listen, I'll be there soon. Try not to drink too much without me."

"Where's the fun in that?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Oliver hung up and started his car. But as he checked his mirror, he paused, staring at his reflection. There were bags under his eyes from a long day; a long week, really. He wasn't the same man he'd been five years ago. All he'd had to deal with was grief and life. She was left stranded at sea, alone and probably terrified. He couldn't imagine how all that time and whatever she'd had to face might have shaped her. That said, however, he was happy. A burst of something he hadn't felt in a very long time spread through his chest, warm and bright. His best friend was alive. She was coming home. And after five years of missing everything about her, he was going to see her again.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Felicity would have preferred to skip the hospital. In fact, her first words when she was greeted by medical staff were, "On a scale of McDonalds to back-alley dumpster, how terrible is the food here? And FYI, McDonalds is the low side of the scale." Okay, so, despite having a _terrible_ menu of food while on the island, she was still not a fan of McD's, and what did a little snark hurt when she was actually talking to people who weren't out to kill her? Fortunately, they ignored her. It wasn't long, however, until her identity was discovered and she was airlifted home to Starling City, set up in the hospital that her family had spent a generous fortune building and renovating over the years. She hadn't seen her mother yet. Felicity had arrived late the night before and had undergone a series of tests that still made her head spin.

In her opinion, the shower was the best part. Left alone, she stepped into the bathroom with folded hospital-issue pants and t-shirt, a hairbrush, some scissors, and more than enough soap. She had to cut off a good portion of her hair since it was either dead or wearing split-ends like they were the latest fashion, but she thought it looked good, considering. The water was brown as it drained away and she couldn't remember the last time her skin had been so clean. Of course, she'd spent so much time scrubbing herself that she was raw and red, but she'd long gotten used to pain.

The diagnostics they ran on her were never-ending. She was pretty sure her bill would pay for a whole new hospital wing. Felicity kept up a constant chatter throughout; mostly to distract herself from the way they kept looking at her scarred body in horror. She would give anything for her childhood etiquette teacher to come in and slap some hands; it was just plain rude to make that face that many times when she could clearly see it. She was well aware the body she'd once had was gone and, in its place, was lean, muscled, scar tissue. It wasn't pretty; she could already imagine her mother having to find discreet tailors to make up a whole new wardrobe for her to hide the damage that had been done. Funny how it was that which brought the sting of tears to her eyes. It seemed with the return to civilization came the immediate awareness of society's shameful body and beauty standards.

Sitting on the windowsill, her knees brought up to her chest, she stared out on the bright city below. While she hadn't been able to see her mother, Donna had come through in a pinch. Felicity was given a pair of her old glasses after complaining to one too many nurses, and she was reminded that her mother really did think of just about everything. It felt amazing to see clearly again. She'd had to work extra hard to be aware of her surroundings when her eyesight had been impaired; listening more than seeing. But, now her vision was just as clear as her hearing. The city looked so much bigger from above; cars moving around like ants, flashing traffic lights, skyscrapers lit up brightly. She turned her head back and squinted, but she couldn't see the stars. It was disappointing, especially since each night she'd fallen asleep, often tucked in the curve of tree branches, she would count the stars and remember home.

Behind her, the TV was running yet another 'shocking' report that she was alive. _Hooray_. Quickly following by the damning truth that she was the one and only survivor of the wreck. "… _It is now confirmed that Robert Queen and all those who were aboard The Gambit are_ deceased."

Funny how Robert got a mention, but Sara and the crew were just collateral damage in comparison to the oh-so-important Queens and Smoaks.

Resting her chin atop her knees, Felicity squeezed her arms around her legs. Deceased was such a terrible word. So final and yet so open-ended. Robert was dead and they would all assume he'd simply drowned. Part of her wished that was true, because the reality was far worse. She closed her eyes before the barrage of images could hit her like a knife that wouldn't stop stabbing her heart.

There was noise outside her hospital room, and she stilled, stretching her hearing. It was her doctor filling her mother in on the final diagnosis.

"—twenty percent of her body is covered in scar tissue, second degree burns on her back and arms. X-rays show at least twelve fractures that never properly healed."

"Has she said anything about what happened?"

"No… She changes the subject each time. Makes jokes, distracts anyone who asks." He sighed. "Donna… I'd like you to prepare yourself. I wouldn't just _guess_ that she has PTSD, I would expect it. The scarring, the x-rays, it all points to a very traumatic experience that she's not willing to discuss…"

Her mother didn't reply, but Felicity could hear the soft click of the door and then her heels as she stepped into the hospital room her daughter was currently residing in.

"Felicity?" she called softly, uncertainly.

Felicity raised her head. Donna was a beautiful woman, with bright blue eyes and soft blond hair that fell in manicured waves. They were about the same height and build, slender with round hips, but her mother always carried so much more elegance than Felicity had, regardless of how many etiquette classes were forced onto her.

She turned herself, dropped her feet to the floor, and stood to meet her. "Mom," she said, smiling faintly.

It was good to see her, though the sheen of tears in Donna's eyes made Felicity's chest ache. It was the memory of her that had helped her through so many dark, lonely nights on the island. To have her there in the flesh made Felicity pause for a moment, afraid it was all a dream. She dropped her gaze and reached for her arm, pinching it.

Donna laughed, a soft choked noise, and shook her head. "It's not a dream… It's not a dream," she repeated as she rushed forward and gathered Felicity into her arms. "My beautiful girl… My baby is home," she wept, gripping her tight.

Felicity went still in her arms, unused to physical contact, at least not of the 'kind' variety. For a second, she wanted nothing more than to shove Donna away and take a defensive position. But then she smelled a hint of jasmine and her mother's perfume invaded her senses, warm and calming. Slowly, Felicity's arms rose and wrapped around her mother. The more she breathed it in, the tighter she hugged her, and the more she let herself believe that it was real. She was home. She was in her mother's arms.

Felicity assured herself that she had earned this; she was allowed this moment of relief. She would have to be on guard later, but for right now, it was okay for her to sink into the embrace, to be soothed by it.

When Donna finally let her go, she didn't step back, only tipped her head and let her eyes wash over Felicity's face. " _Oh_ …" She trailed her fingers down Felicity's hair, her lips pressing into a line. "Did— Did you cut this yourself?"

Felicity looked down at the hack job and shrugged. "Would you believe hair-dressers don't do hospital visits?"

Her mother bit her lip and shook her head. "I missed that… Your jokes."

"You mean my terrible sense of humor and timing?"

She nodded, a smile playing at her lips.

"Good thing I found it in the shipwreck."

Donna swallowed tightly, blinking rapidly, and stepped away from her. "You're probably exhausted." She swiped at her eyes. "You have to stay overnight, for observation. They want to be sure you're okay. But tomorrow…" She looked up at her gently. "Tomorrow you'll come _home_."

Felicity nodded, forcing a smile for her benefit. "Sure, right, of course. I… can't wait."

Truth be told, she was a little nervous. Probably something to do with the fact that she hadn't seen home in so long that she was pretty sure her mind had made up something far better than reality. But also because coming home meant seeing everyone she'd missed for so long. Her mother and her friends were at the top of that list. Five years was a long time and a lot could change. A lot _had_ changed. Felicity being at the top of that list. As much as she was happy to be home, she knew that things couldn't go back to how they were, not really.

"You should rest," Donna told her, taking her hand and leading her to the hospital bed.

It felt strange to be taken care of, to have her mother smooth her hair down and tuck the blanket in around her like she was a child. Strange but also comforting. If only for tonight, she could be that little girl again. Come tomorrow, she knew she would have to harden herself once more.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Felicity stood at the window of her mother's penthouse apartment, staring down at the city, morning traffic moving to and fro. A team of hair-dressers had already come and gone, giving her a haircut that her mother wouldn't continue to make her 'ugh' face at. A tailor had also come by, taking Felicity's new measurements and writing a list of 'problem' areas (ie. scars) she would need her new wardrobe to cover. After that, she was left to her own devices.

"I can stay," Donna had offered. "I don't mind. It's not like they can fire me at my own company."

"I'm pretty sure they can, actually." Felicity turned back to her, smiling reassuringly. "Seriously, go. I'll be fine. I'm probably going to spend the day in my pajamas, just catching up on reality TV."

"If you need _anything_ …" Donna stared at her searchingly. "Are you sure you don't want someone with you? Have you talked to anyone? I'm sure Tommy or Oliver would be happy to come by."

"Mom." Felicity reached out and squeezed Donna's shoulders. "I'll be right here when you get back. You can go to work. I'm not going anywhere."

Donna bit her lip and blinked quickly. "I know you're trying to comfort me, but I can't tell you how scared I am that you're just going to _poof_ , disappear." She shook her head. "Five years, Felicity. Five years I spent thinking I'd _lost_ you. And now you're here and…" She reached for her, combing her fingers through the ends of Felicity's hair, which just brushed her shoulders. "I need you to be here, okay?"

"I know." Felicity smiled gently. "I'm home. I promise."

"Okay." Waving her hands at her eyes to dry them of tears, Donna carefully wiped under them to clean away any drippy mascara. "There. How do I look?"

"Fine. No raccoon eyes or anything."

"Yeah?" Donna smiled brightly. "Okay. Then, I'm off. And I will _not_ call you every hour on the hour… Maybe just every hour and a half."

With a snort, Felicity waved her off. "Deal. Now go."

Leaning in, Donna popped a kiss to Felicity's cheek, leaving a bright pink mark behind. Not bothering to wipe it away, she turned on her heel and hurried to the door. "If you're up to it, you should drop by at lunch, we can order something in and eat together. If not, that's fine, too. I'll be home around five, so we'll have dinner together."

"Five, really? That's a little early for you."

"The place won't burn down if I take an early day. Besides, we deserve it. I want to spend as much time with you as I can." Pulling the door open, she turned back to gaze at Felicity a few long seconds, and then she blew her a kiss and was off.

Left behind, Felicity dropped the smile and the cheerful attitude, turning her back on the door and moving toward the window. She hadn't lied to her mother. She would be there when Donna returned from work. But, in the meantime, she had things to do. Leaving the living room, she made her way to her temporary bedroom. After she'd been declared officially dead, her mother had sold her apartment and much of the furniture inside. The clothes and heirlooms, however, she'd kept. Much of the clothing was left in boxes, taking up half the bedroom floor. A lot of it was a little too loose on her, a reminder that she'd once been curvier, but it would work for now. She just needed something to wear instead of her pajamas while she went on a little trip.

After exchanging her pink pajamas for something a little darker, she double checked her crate to make sure her bow and hood were safely packed inside and then locked it once more, sliding it under her bed for safe keeping. Leaving her room, which was noticeably stuffy from being unused for so long, Felicity made her way out of the apartment and toward the elevator. She took it down to the parking garage, where she planned to keep to the outskirts, out of camera view, and make her way onto the street. If all went well, she'd have a chance to check out the old steel factory, see what it had to offer, and would have plenty of time to return to the penthouse to do a little apartment hunting of her own. Much as she enjoyed being close to her mother, it wouldn't be conducive to her long-term plans. Drawing the hood of her shirt up over her head, Felicity stepped out to meet the world, only to quickly find more comfort in the shadowed back alleys that would lead her to The Glades.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Oliver never regretted his hangover more than when his mother walked into his office. Sitting up abruptly, he cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down his tie. "Mom… I didn't know we had a meeting scheduled."

"We don't." She smiled at him indulgently. "I can't come visit you without penciling it in first?"

"Of course you can." He stood from his desk and circled around to greet her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm just surprised. I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"Well, considering the media circus outside and everything that's come to light, I thought I should check in, see how you were doing…" She stared up at him searchingly. "It's a lot to process, I'm sure."

"It is."

"Have you scheduled an appointment with Dr. Castillo?"

"I still see him when I can, but I haven't scheduled anything specific to this, no." He watched her carefully. "I'm not spiralling, mom."

"Of course not. It's just important to monitor your mental health, that's all. I'm sure he could help you put something like this into perspective."

"I thought my friend was dead and it turns out she was stranded on an isolated island by herself for five years. If anyone needs therapy, it's probably her." He took a seat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. "Is this about dad?"

Moira's lips flattened together. "It was different before… There was no confirmation, just an expectation that comes with time. Now we know for sure. He's really gone." She let out a quiet sigh. "Thea's been quiet about it, but I know she's hurting. You haven't been by the house in a while. She might like the company."

"I've been busy with work, that's all. I'll drop by for dinner."

"Good." She clasped her hands together. "Have you spoken to her yet?"

"Felicity?" His brows rose. "No. Not yet. I'm not even sure if she's back in town."

"She is. She was in Starling General until this morning when she was discharged under her mother's care. I've already seen looping footage of Donna making her way into Smoak Tech this morning, so it hasn't hampered her work ethic any."

"I don't have a phone number. Anyway, I don't want to ambush her. When she's ready…"

"It isn't an ambush if you're just extending a hand." Moira opened her purse and received a book from inside, thumbing through it until she found what she wanted. "This is Donna's home phone number." Circling around him, she wrote it on a sticky note. "I'm sure Felicity would be happy to hear from you. You should ask her by for dinner sometime. We'd all like a chance to see her."

"Thank you. And I'll mention it to her."

Smiling gently, Moira pressed her hand to his cheek lovingly. "I'm sorry that the news wasn't better. If I could bring your father home too, I would."

Oliver covered her hand and nodded. "I know."

Tapping his cheek with her thumb, she retracted her hand. "Let me know how things go with Felicity. I can't begin to imagine what it must've been like for her." With that, she turned on her heel to leave, and Oliver could do nothing but stare at the phone number in front of him. It took him a few minutes before he eventually stood from his desk, circled around to take a seat behind it, and then fiddled with his phone. Eventually, he did make a call. To Tommy.

"Do you have _any_ idea how early it is?"

Oliver frowned. "It's nearly one. Are you still in bed?"

"Ugh, I migrated to the couch an hour ago." Tommy groaned. "My mouth tastes like socks."

An amused grin tilted his mouth. "I tried to cut you off, but you wouldn't listen."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get righteous on me. Anyway, why are you calling? I know it's 5 o'clock somewhere, but not here. I plan on sleeping the rest of the day."

"Actually, I was calling because I have a possible way to contact Felicity. It turns out, my mother had Donna Smoak's phone number. Would it be weird to call or…?"

"What're you gonna say?"

He sighed. "I haven't really planned much beyond 'hi.'"

"Solid opener."

With a snort, Oliver shook his head. "It shouldn't be this hard."

"It's a complicated situation."

"How do I make it _less_ complicated?"

"You could always skip the phone call and try for something a little more personal."

"Like?"

"A face-to-face meeting. I happen to know where Mama Smoak lives. I just never go there. I'm a coward like that."

Oliver sat back in his chair. "You don't think that'd be a little… forward? It's only been a day."

"Technically, she's been back on American soil for like _two_ days."

Blowing out a sigh, he tipped his head back. "Are you coming?"

"Are you kidding? I was going to send you in first, see how that goes, then take my chances…"

Rolling his eyes, Oliver grinned. "Text me the address."

* * *

**...**

* * *

It was just before four when Felicity arrived back at the penthouse, a comfortable enough cushion from when her mother promised to be home from work. Dirty from spending a few hours digging around in the foundry, trying to figure out exactly how she wanted to set things up, she bee-lined it for the shower. This morning, she'd spent more than an hour under the hot spray, but now she tried to limit herself. It was nice to have running water again, easily accessible and without end. The small luxuries in regular life were easy to get lost in when she'd spent so much time without them.

Trading in her towel for a loose grey sweater, a pair of comfy jeans, and warm, wool socks, Felicity made her way out into the living room. Her mother had gifted her with a brand new laptop, which she planned on taking full advantage of. She had a lot she needed to buy for the foundry, but she also needed to start looking at apartments. She'd just taken a seat on the couch, her legs criss-crossed beneath her, laptop perched on the fold, when she heard a buzzing noise.

Frowning, Felicity stood and made her way to the phone connected to the intercom. Holding it to her ear, she said, "Hello…?"

There was a pause and then, " _Felicity?_ "

Her heart jumped and squeezed in her chest, her fingers tightening around the receiver. "Oliver?"

There was a burst of static, like he'd breathed too loud and too strong against the speaker. "Yeah. Can, uh… Can I come up?"

"Yeah! _Yes!_ Just… I'll buzz you up now. I'm in the penthouse suite, which… You know, because you just buzzed me, but… I felt like I needed to tell you anyway, for some reason. I'm not really sure why. I guess I'm nervous. Not that you make me nervous. Why would you? You're one of my best friends. It's just the situation and it's so complicated and—"

"Felicity?" He sounded entirely too amused for her liking.

Shaking her head, she pressed the receiver to her forehead and pressed down on '9' to admit him.

"I'm on my way up," he said, before a crackle told her the conversation had ended.

Hanging up her end of the phone, she stepped back and bit her lip. She'd known this was coming. She couldn't avoid them forever. Then again, it might not be 'them' but just him. Which she was fine with. She and Tommy were a complication she couldn't afford to deal with right now, not on top of everything else. Not that Oliver was all that less complicated… The last time she'd seen him had been in Beijing. From a distance, of course. She hadn't been prepared to see someone so vastly different from the man she remembered.

A knock at the door made her jump and she cursed her sudden spook-ability. She'd spent years honing herself, getting to a place where nothing and no one could scare her. And yet, she knew who was on the other side of that door and she couldn't help but feel a fine thread of worry fill her. When Felicity had left that morning, she'd hugged him goodbye and asked him not to forget her, promising to be home in six weeks. Instead, she was gone five years, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd kept his promise. Fourteen years of friendship had given them a great foundation to work with, but five years apart might have eroded a lot of that. And she couldn't forget what it was she was back to do. Could friendship even fit in with that?

Walking the short distance to the door, she flipped the locks, took a breath, and pulled it open.

Oliver stood on the other side. Tall and broad, his skin tanned, and his dark blond hair cut shorter than it had been before. He had a five o'clock shadow too, where previously he was always impeccably shaved. She kind of liked the scruff; it looked good on him.

"I'm glad you approve," he said, his mouth turning up at the corners.

Her eyes widened. "I said that out loud?"

He let out a huff of a laugh and nodded. "I see your filter's still broken."

"Only around you." She stared up at him. "Seriously, I put a cap on this thing." She pointed at her mouth. "A really good one. Top of the line. Until this exact moment."

"I'll take that as a compliment." His gaze washed over her face. "You're really here."

Her heart swooped down into her stomach. "So are you."

"I didn't leave."

"I'm not sure 'leave' is the word I'd use for being forcibly stranded, but…" She shrugged one shoulder. "If it fits."

Oliver shook his head faintly. "If I'd known…"

"Hey, you couldn't have." She reached for him, her hand folding around his forearm and squeezing. "There's not exactly a 'how-to' on what to do when your best friend gets lost at sea."

"Think I could write a book? Might be a small demographic to market to, but we could make it work."

She laughed. "I'm not sure book writing is up either of our alleys." She looked him up and down. "Then again, I never thought I'd see you wearing the CEO mantle."

"I turned over a new leaf."

"You'll have to tell me why and how sometime."

"I will." He stared at her a beat. "Can I… Is it okay if I hug you?"

Touched, she swallowed tightly and nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice a little raspy. "Yeah, I'd like a hug."

He was gentle as he pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist and his chin falling to the top of her head. Felicity felt every tense muscle in her body uncoil, her arms lifting to embrace him in return. She turned her head, pressing her ear to his chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt rub against her cheek. Her eyes fell closed and she took a moment to just listen to his heart and feel how utterly _swamped_ she was in his much larger body.

When Felicity was eight years old, she met a boy that would become one of the more important people in her life. He had no idea how to even turn a computer on, let alone how to use one. Teaching him became the first step in building their friendship. By lunch time, she'd met Tommy, who would also become another cornerstone in her life. For the next fourteen years, they were basically inseparable, even when she went away to MIT at the tender age of 16. But they'd had the phone and texting and frequent emails and holidays to catch up. It was a little different when they spent five years believing she was _dead_.

"Is this weird for you?" she wondered.

"Weird that you're alive or weird that I'm hugging you?"

"Mostly the first one. A little of the second one now that you've mentioned it."

He snorted, his breath ruffling her hair. "Not weird, exactly."

"But something?"

"I don't know how to put it into words… I'm just relieved. And happy. And… not sure I believe it's happening." His chin brushed the top of her head.

"Spontaneous resurrection has that effect."

He laughed; the rumble from his chest was warm and wonderful and it made her entire body shiver from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It felt like home. _He_ felt like home. Complicated, she reminded herself. He and Tommy were nothing but a walking complication. On another level entirely, she also understood that he was an opportunity waiting to happen. As CEO, he had access to things she would need. But as quick as her analytical mind was to remind her of that, she shut it down, just for a moment. Because yes, whether Oliver wanted to be or not, he would play a part in her mission to save their city and bring to justice those that would corrupt it. But in that very moment, that was not how she wanted to think of him, or them. In that moment, he was just Oliver and she was just Felicity and they mattered to each other as a completely individual component of her life. It wouldn't last. It couldn't. She had an objective to fulfill. A past he could never understand. A _her_ he would never know. But for a couple minutes, she could forget all of that and just soak him up.

"I missed you," he murmured, his voice soft and warm and ripe with sincerity. His grip tightened and she felt a shake, a shudder, a show of vulnerability vibrate through his body and take hers along with it. "And I remembered you… Every day."

She closed her eyes as they burned and let her fingers dig in against him. "I missed you too." Her throat squeezed. "I can't tell you how much."

"You can tell me anything."

Felicity winced and leaned back from him, forcing a smile. "Most of it's probably boring. You know, slept on the ground, ate a lot of fruit I couldn't tell you the names of, got sunburned in places I never knew _could_ burn… Trust me, that part won't be making it into any Lifetime movies."

He stared at her searchingly. "You don't have to tell me. But when you're ready… I'll listen."

She swallowed a lump down and nodded. And then she socked him in the arm, like a dork. "When did you get all sweet and sensitive?"

"I have my moments."

Oh, she remembered that. The days when Oliver would connect with a softer side of himself and be sincere and open with her in a way he often tried to hide. Tommy was the same. Sometimes she wondered if they felt like the had to be a caricature of themselves rather than real people. If the fame and money slowly carved away at them until they weren't sure who was staring back at them in the mirror. They were so young when she'd disappeared from their lives. Twenty-two felt like a lifetime ago. It was for her and, looking at Oliver, she thought it might have been for him too. But life had sent her careening in a wildly different direction and, even if she could play the part, she wouldn't ever be the girl he befriended at 8. And she wasn't sure he'd like who she had turned into either.

"Felicity?"

She blinked herself back into the moment.

He was half-smiling at her, a hand resting heavy and on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

No, she thought. Not really. "I'm fine. Hey, this would usually be about the time I suggest we got to Big Belly and you tell me whatever Body Snatchers moment you had that led to you becoming CEO. But my mom's kind of expecting to be home early and have a family dinner or something. She's been a bit of a wreck since I got back."

"Yeah, of course." He nodded. "Actually, my mom mentioned she'd like to have you over for dinner sometime soon… When you're ready."

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." She rubbed her hands together. "I have no idea when. I'm probably going to be a little busy for a while. I have to file to have that whole 'officially dead' thing reversed at court and, like I said, mom's hovering a lot. But I will pencil in a dinner with the Queen's ASAP."

"Great. And maybe in the next few days, we can get Big Belly and I'll tell you all about how awful business school was."

She grinned. "I'd like that."

The door swung open then, admitting a harried Donna Smoak. "I know! I'm early! You probably think I'm hovering and being overbearing, but that's my right as a mother. And— _Oh!_ Oliver, I didn't see you there." Donna smiled widely. "I was just telling Felicity this morning that she should reach out. How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. You look lovely, Miss Smoak."

"That's kind of you to say, considering I spent most of my day in meetings and feel like sludge." She shrugged her jacket off and started for the kitchen, pausing to kiss Felicity's cheek on her way. "I'm opening a bottle of wine. Does anybody want some? Oh, and I ordered food already. Oliver, you should stay! There'll be more than enough for everybody."

Oliver stared after her a beat and then looked to Felicity.

Felicity smiled and shrugged. "Maybe if you stick around, she'll stop worrying I'll disappear. She called me eighteen times today."

"I don't blame her. It's not every day somebody you love comes back to life."

Felicity nodded. "All right, point taken."

He held a hand out to her. "Is wine still your biggest weakness?"

She took his hand. "It's definitely still up there."

"Good. I'll remember that."

Together, they walked hand in hand into the kitchen to join her mother, who was rambling about work. Felicity knew she was playing with fire, but that moment they had, wrapped together in denial and nostalgia and a love for each other that she never dared explore, wanted to last just a little longer. So maybe she would put away her plans for just a little while. Maybe she could be Donna's daughter and Oliver's friend, newly resurrected to the regular world, for just a couple hours of food and conversation, until, inevitably, her mission would come calling again. What could it hurt to play pretend for just a little while?

Oliver's thumb rubbed across her knuckles soothingly and Felicity raised her eyes to meet his. He winked, amused by Donna's lack of filter, so reminiscent of her daughter. Felicity's heart squeezed. It would hurt, she knew. A lot, in the short and long run. But instead of letting go or making excuses or crawling back into that unfeeling hole that kept her alive for five long years, she squeezed his hand tight and let her walls down just an inch, just enough that the weight of them didn't feel so crushing. Oh, it was going to hurt. But maybe it would be worth it.

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> as i said above, this is not a story i plan on continuing. it was something i started a very long time ago when i was thinking about the intricacies of a felicity that was raised in oliver and tommy's world, and then got meshed together with an au role reversal that i had started and scrapped like six times over. the main ideas going on here are an oliver that is left behind who chooses to evolve and change and fill the shoes he imagines his father would have wanted for him, who gets the necessary mental health help he needs, and who struggles with his grief and the ghost of a girl he loved but never ended up acknowledging, which sort of haunts him. with felicity, near the end, she acknowledges that there was definitely something, a spark or a hope, that had blossomed between her and oliver that she had likewise chosen to let be unspoken and not explore. there's hints when tommy pops up that he is currently with laurel, or at least has some kind of romantic connection to her, that i was going to make more obvious as i continued. tommy was not expecting to pick things back up with felicity but would continue to be her friend, whereas felicity and oliver would be faced with their obvious growing feelings while she's taken on her new mission in life and oliver's figuring out how he fits with her as well as learning his family's dark secrets. but alas, arrow is coming to an end and i'm like three seasons behind (even though i am trying to keep up with final season anyway), so i doubt you will see a continuation of this going forward.
> 
> that said, i do hope you enjoyed what i wrote. thank you to anyone who has donated to help pay off my medical expenses, it has really helped take some of the stress off. i am working through the asks i received from donors to fill prompts and hope to have more out soon.
> 
> thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
> \- **Lee | Fina**


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